Obsessive Thirst

2. Tessa

2

TESSA

It was embarrassing having the hots for your dad’s best friend.

But that’s the only way to describe it.

He made me so hot.

Every time I saw him, every second I thought of him, flames licked at all of my skin surfaces, and burned into my flesh.

And now, following his gigantic form down the fancy, luxurious hallway, to the private elevator, up to a room I’d never visited even though I was in the casino nearly every day.

I may want to jump a Drago’s bones, and lease my business space from the same family, but that didn’t give me the right to enter their secret sanctuaries.

Any girl with a lick of s*x drive would describe Brando Drago as handsome, and more in my age range than his Hulk-esque relative.

Granted, he’d married Lucia and was off the market.

But he would have made a much more sensible choice as the object of my l**t while Enzo was off, God knows where, fighting terrorists and saving the world.

Four long years without him.

It seemed like twenty.

“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Brando asked, after his brother Tony, another irresistibly handsome man who did absolutely nothing for my libido, let us into the palatial office.

“Get you a drink?” The casino boss approached a bar at the edge of the room, pouring himself a tumbler of liquid the color of oak hardwood floors.

“Sure, thanks,” I replied, but the deep voice behind me drowned out my words.

“She’s had enough. She’s here to settle up,” Enzo said.

I concentrated on walking a straight line to Brando, and stated, “A rum and coke would be lovely. Thank you.” As evidenced by my choice in fiancés, my judgement was faulty. Otherwise, I never would have challenged him in front of his mobster peers.

Big mistake.

Behind me, the gorilla I had the hots for made a rough sound in his throat.

I turned to look and nearly backed down at the black curtain of anger that fell over his eyes. “Did you just growl at me?” I asked.

If I were honest with myself, my s****l frustration was getting the best of me. Bobby and I hadn’t been active that way for longer than I could remember.

This gangster, whose face was predatory, primal, but never without compassion, did it for me.

But I wouldn’t let him see that.

“Have a heart. Her fiancé is missing,” Tony said.

I always did like the man.

Brando began to pour me another, and my chest got light with the anticipation of a bigger buzz, and a head more numbed.

Only he gave it to Enzo instead.

“Your father’s best friend is like a brother to me. I won’t go against his word,” he said.

“Tell him what you came here for.” If I didn’t know Enzo since forever, his tone of voice would have scared me shitless.

He would never lay a finger on me.

I’d tried to make him plenty of times.

It was as if he was made of stone.

Treating me with respect. No matter how short my skirt or push-up-b*a-high my breasts. He kept his distance.

He surprised me by walking over to the couch. “May I?”

These Dragos. They’d pull a trigger at the drop of a hat to take out an enemy, but their manners were courtly and refined towards each other. What you would call old world mafia. Their money was just as established.

“Please,” Brando replied. His house, his rules. He beckoned me to follow, and I sat as far away from Enzo as I could on the other end of the couch, making my point.

My drinking game was not to be f****d with.

“Tell him what you came here for, Tessa.” I hated the way Enzo spoke to me as if I were a child.

I was a grown woman. Licensed and trained in cosmetology with an AA in business. I balanced my books like an acrobat on a tightrope. It wasn’t a lack of financial acumen that made me late with my payments.

It was Bobby.

His non-profit was his newest passion, and its mission was to help local s*x workers learn new skills and find employment that didn’t put their lives in peril. A noble cause. And the donation that I gave him last month put me way behind with the Dragos. Even though Bobby swore he’d get my cash back two weeks ago, my account was still in the red.

Until tonight, when I’d be paying the Dragos back with money made on their machine.

“You’re aware of course that it is strictly f*******n for Diamante staff and tenants to gamble on site?” Tony grimaced in distaste when he asked the question.

Fear knotted inside me, and my mouth watered as the rum had its way with my stomach. “No, I was not. I’m sorry, I never would have done it had I known.”

I darted my eyes at Enzo. He wouldn’t let them hurt me, would he?

For the first time ever, I saw contempt and disdain on his features directed at me, and a gruesome sense of regret washed over me.

“You still want to take care of it like we said?” Brando asked.

Ice shivered down my spine when Enzo responded, “She deserves punishment. It’s the only way she’ll learn.”

He turned to face me where I sat on the couch, six feet away, and his stare burned with such potency I felt my soul shiver.

Tony spoke next. “We’ll let you pay what you owe to the Dragos using your winnings, if you accept your penalty.”

Having these drop-dead, delicious men in suits talking about me this way should have scared the s**t out of me. Things could be worse. I could be looking down the barrel of a g*n, or tossed over the Redwood bridge into the river below.

Instead, I got the impression they had something kinkier in mind.

And the thought made my n*****s tighten to stiff peaks.

“Will you do the honors, Enzo?” Asked Brando, who locked the office door, and took a seat across from the couch, in an armchair next to Tony. “A flogger seems most appropriate in this case. One for every G she owes. Then she can pay us the full amount for her back-rent.”

Enzo frowned with displeasure, and my heart weighed heavy in my chest. He’d never been unhappy with me before, and I realized I’d do whatever it took to make him look upon me fondly again.

“Please. I’ll pay. Is the flogging really necessary?” I asked, telling myself I should fight them.

Struggle.

But the embarrassing truth of it all was I didn’t want to. I was too turned on and much too excited to find out what he was going to do to me. The way he regarded me with eyes filled with l**t and insatiable hunger made my whole body vibrate in response and my p***y pulse.

“You’re getting off easy, Ms. Bancroft. Forty spankings. You could probably do that in your sleep.” Enzo’s hand was rough on my skin when it encircled my wrist and pulled me across the couch to lie over his lap. Beneath me, his thighs were keenly muscled, like the rest of him.

Three Dragos, watching my humiliation before them in a public flogging. Shame choked me, and the words wouldn’t come to argue or fight back. Tony handed the flogger to my punisher, and my heart pounded in my chest, anticipating the first blow.

Then I noticed it.

The amazing, thick hardness of him shoved against my ribs. Only the two of us knew it was there. His blazer hid any side view of his arousal, and I couldn’t say anything aloud about having it pressed against me.

But I felt the rigid secret between us.

I turned him on.

He was going to chasten me in front of his gangster colleagues across from us, who were sipping scotch as if on the sidelines of the Belmont Stakes. They were completely civilized and totally out of context, considering the fact that Enzo was now wrenching my skirt up over my hips.

“Hey!” I protested.

He dropped the flogger on the cushion beside him, covered my mouth with his huge palm and said, “You either behave yourself, or I’ll get a ball gag for you. Is that what you want?” he asked.

I shook my head, unable to speak under the covering confinement of his giant hand. We breathed together like that for a few moments, and I took in every aspect of him touching my body. His huge bulging bicep alongside my head, his massive forearm pressed against my cheek, and that bulge in my side which for the life of me seemed to get bigger.

Down below, I was getting damp. Of course, today of all days, I had to wear a thong. I reserved them as a last resort when I needed to do laundry. Otherwise, the uncomfortable instrument of t*****e would never have been barely covering my p***y, and certainly not my a*s.

The three men could see my bare bottom splayed over Enzo’s lap.

The Novocain effect of my earlier drinks had completely left the building, and I squirmed a bit on his lap, thinking of him sliding his huge fingers inside me.

What was I doing? Bobby was missing. Getting turned on by a guy many years my senior, who was about to discipline me in front of his relatives, meant I had surely hit rock bottom.

But not before he walloped the hell out of me. His arms weren’t just ornamental. He raised the flogger in the air and brought it down on my bare skin, again and again, making it sting and burn with the force behind it.

I would have screamed or yelled but was powerless to do so with his relentless hand over my mouth.

My hips twisted to get away, and he stopped. I had twenty lashings to go.

“Don’t move.” He chastened me, but I could hear the hungry groan beneath his words.

Glancing to the side, I noticed that Tony and Brando maintained their scornful expressions, as if inflicting pain on women was par for the course in their business negotiations.

A flush of shameful crimson spread over my cheeks. I had to come back here tomorrow to work. I’d never be able to look them in the eye after this.

The hot slap of the flogger came down again and Enzo uttered barely audible grunts with each blow, maintaining his cool distance in spite of me being red-bottomed and sore, across his lap.

I wanted him to touch me in a different way. The effect of alcohol soothed the burn, but it seemed to amplify my need to have him explore me with his tongue, and helped me forget all about the fact that I should be worrying about Bobby.

Bobby who?

“That’s forty,” said Tony, which meant he was counting.

Apart from the raging hard-on poking at my side, Enzo remained cold, ruthless, with no spark of evident passion. Meanwhile, I was throbbing between my legs and needed to take care of it, stat, I thought as he yanked my skirt back down.

I stood up on two unstable feet, and felt dizzy, swaying a little. He didn’t hold my hand or help me steady myself but said, “You can cash your check below, forty thousand goes to the house.” He wouldn’t look me in the eye, “You might even have some left over after taxes.”

His icy demeanor repelled me.

There was one sure-fire means to warm myself up. I’d head downstairs and order another drink.

No way could I go home alone with the memory of being s*****d hard while three man-candy males watched as if I were their spectator sport.